Saturday, April 17, 2004

Richard Nixon, Reggie Jackson and My List of Enemies

Why do Americans of so many political stripes continue to despise
former president Richard Nixon? There are many theories. Here's mine: even from the grave, Dick reminds us of our uglier selves. Who among
us doesn’t yield to paranoia once in awhile? Who doesn’t cover up the
occasional mistake at work? And who doesn’t keep a list of enemies? I know I
do, a list of my baseball enemies.

I was nine when I began my list. It was Game 4 of the 1978 World Series. The
Dodgers were up two games to one and clearly en route to avenging their defeat
in the ‘77 Series, my first fall classic. I was in Mr. “I use the girls’
bathroom because it’s a jungle in the boys’ room” Hogan’s third grade
class, and the only kid in the class rooting for the Dodgers. I knew nothing
about the Dodgers prior to the series, but I knew that everyone in my class was
pulling for the Yankees and my contrarian instincts led me to siding with
Lasorda and company. Thus, my first World Series experience was one of social
isolation and, when the Dodgers lost in six games, disappointment.

But ’78 was going to be different. The Dodgers were going to win, and I had
an ally in Darin Watkins. He was not in my class, but he was in the
class next door. And this being the ’70s and the era of open classrooms (In the
school’s new wing, the classrooms were not separated by walls. Instead, a
combination of cabinets, closets, and other storage units—all on wheels, none
going from floor to ceiling, and at least one of which was a mere three to four
feet high—divided one room from the next), Darin and I were able to touch base
during the day. I remember leaning over the short counter in the short time
between reading and math and discussing the series with Darin. We had a lot to
talk about because the Dodgers had taken Game One in an 11-5 romp, and then won
Game 2 in classic Davey and Goliath style. Dodger rookie reliever Bob Welch entered
the ninth inning protecting a fragile 4-3 lead. Reggie Jackson came to
the plate with two on and two out. The count went full and Jackson
fouled off a trio of 3-2 offerings before Welch struck out Mr. October on the
following pitch.

We were the only kids not rooting for the Yankees and we were certain that
the Dodgers were going to win it all in ’78. Revenge for ’77 was in the air,
bragging rights were imminent. Then Reggie Jackson stuck his ass in the way of
our destiny. Or rather his hip.

Jackson had slugged the Yankees
past the Dodgers in ’77, and though I disliked the guy, there was no denying
his talent. Three home runs in a World Series game is the stuff of legend. In
’77 Jackson had earned the Yankees
a World Series title; in ’78 he stole it for them.

Game 4, bottom of the sixth. Jackson
was on first when Lou Pinella sent a low, soft liner to Dodger shortstop
Bill Russell. Jackson
assumed that Russell would catch the liner, so he, Jackson, stayed close to
first. But Russell did not catch the liner. Instead he fielded it on a hop,
flipped it to second baseman Davey Lopes who then relayed the ball to
first baseman Steve Garvey. Only the ball never made it to Garvey. Jackson
stuck out his hip and sent the ball into right field. Pinella reached base
safely and ignited a Yankee rally. The pinstripes never looked back, going on
to win the next three games and take the series in six.

At least that is the way I remember it. The record books will tell you
different. They will minimize the impact of Jackson’s
egregious actions. They will say that the Yankees scored but one run in the
fateful sixth inning and did not tie the game until the eighth. They will tell
further tales of the Yankees not winning the game until the bottom of the
tenth. Do not trust the record books. I know what I saw. Jackson
looked right at me and said, “Do you want to know what heartache feels like,
kid? This is what you get for letting hope seep into your soul” just before he
deliberately deflected Lopes’ throw. And he knew, like I knew, that he had just
snuffed out the Dodgers’ momentum, that the Dodger collapse was underway, that
he had stolen a World Series championship while millions watched.

And what better way to deal with bitter resentment than to start an enemies
list?

Next issue: Enemy #2 - The Atlanta Braves

Mike Faloon is the publisher of Zisk. He denies
allegations that he is currently in negotiations with G. Gordon Liddy
and other former members of CREEP.